


The Umbrella Academy will collectively take down Thanos.

by pastelchalks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Except Luther, Hydra (Marvel), Not Luther friendly, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, They all have a pretty good sibling relationship, Vanya grew up with her powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:39:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelchalks/pseuds/pastelchalks
Summary: What if the Umbrella Academy was set in the same universe as the Avengers?Thanos sees the Human race of Terra as a threat so he wipes them out, and when Five time-travels forward into the apocalypse, he's the last one left.Not Endgame compliant





	1. Chapter 1

What if The Umbrella Academy was set in the MCU? What if Vanya had her powers trained like all the others? The Apocalypse is started by Thanos, who snaps away the entire human race.

 

* * *

 

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the Earth gave birth. This was only unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day had first begun. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer had set out to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

 

He got seven of them.

 

The other thirty-six? Most of them had died in mysterious circumstances by their third birthday. The ones that had survived were the ones that had failed to be located by Hydra. The seven children that had been adopted by Sir Reginald Hargreeves had been raised in military-like conditions. Certainly not any condition that would be fit for young children, not that the children were aware of it, limited contact with the outside world tended to make them believe that what they were put through was completely normal.

 

When they’d been announced to the press as the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy there was confusion from the public. Yes, they hadn’t been the first Superheroes, but Captain America was made one for the war, he was necessary. As far as the public was concerned, there wasn’t any reason they needed heroes, and certainly not a band of young _children_.

 

Even when the existence of The Umbrella Academy had been revealed to the public, there had been no government intervention whatsoever. Nobody filed for child endangerment, and absolutely nobody said anything about the moral ambiguity of training little children. Apparently, Sir Reginald Hargreeves wasn’t the only one behind the scenes, as he’d been sanctioned by S.H.I.E.L.D. long ago to train the children as he pleased.

 

Nobody bats an eye as each child is branded with an umbrella tattoo. They’re allowed exactly one interview with the press, and Number Three decides that she likes the spotlight. She likes being on television, and she likes the prints of them on the magazine covers. They look far happier on the magazine cover then she can ever remember any of them being in the Academy.

 

Things had only begun to fall apart behind the scenes in The Umbrella Academy after one of the members had gone missing, Number Five, as the public recalls. It’s 2002 and he’s thirteen. It’s a tragedy, and that’s when the controversies begin. It starts off as a throwaway comment on a late night talk show. The host makes a joke about how if he’d adopted, _ahem_ bought, seven children and trained them, the child protective services would be knocking in an instant, but if he changed his name to Sir Reginald Hargreeves everything would be fine.

 

The audience laughs in the moment, but it brings up more and more concern from the public. Nobody turns a blind eye anymore. There’s exactly one public protest for the wellbeing of the children of The Umbrella Academy. The government intervenes, tear gas is used and it’s silent again.

 

Nobody mentions the wellbeing of The Umbrella Academy again. Of course, there are the occasional mentions of them, usually pitiful, but the public never tries anything again. There’s nothing to be said, and who would be bothered when they knew that there was nothing anybody could do.

 

When Number Six dies in a horrible accident, he’s a footnote in the paper. It’s 2006 and by then the appearances of The Umbrella Academy in public are sparse. They’re old news by then. One by one the remaining children leave, except for Number One. Number Two makes a name for himself in the police academy, and everybody can tell that he’s just swapping one crime-fighting academy for another. There’s not a word from anybody.

 

Number Three gets a good career in the modelling and movie industry. Hollywood loves her. Some of her best pictures include her umbrella tattoo. It’s a grim reminder of her past, but no matter how many tattoos removal companies offer her to endorse their procedures she can’t bring herself to remove it.

 

It’s one of the only things that tie her to her past, her missing brother and her dead brother.

 

Number Four had become a drug addict, spending his days either high at a rave or far away at rehabs in the most exotic places. Heroin had really helped him stop seeing the terrifying bodies of all those who had died around him. He hated the cloudiness the high gave him but in exchange for silence from the dead? He’d give almost anything for that. Number Six keeps him constant company these days, he’s never alone.

 

Number Five is nothing but a face in the paintings on the wall of the Academy. He’s become words on a page, a faraway memory in their minds. Nobody ever forgets him, but they don’t quite remember him. Not in the way he’d wanted to be remembered anyway.

 

Number Six is much like Number Five, he becomes a memory and is immortalised in the bronze statue they have for him in the courtyard. He’s depicted as young, around the same age Five had been before he’d disappeared. And he hates it. He’s not forgotten by the others, but he may as well be. Klaus rarely talks to him much these days, instead waving his hand through him, shooing him off while he gets down on another high.

 

Number Seven writes a book about their lives. It’s an instant bestseller. The family hates the book, but they don’t hate her for writing it. They hate the book for exposing their weaknesses. It’s a bitter reminder of the trauma they had all faced as children. They never read their own chapter. Diego still can’t stand to see a swimming pool, Klaus makes an effort to never pass a cemetery. Allison can feel the scratchiness in her throat whenever she hears somebody say the word “rumour”.

 

Vanya, other than an author, becomes one of the best violinists in the world. She restrains her own power through sheer will, and just uses it enough to make the music sound outstanding to the human ear. She trembles when the power ripples beneath her skin, and she remembers what happened the first time she had let her power go.

 

She’d destroyed a town.

 

The government had been kind enough to cover it up for her, a nuclear disaster, they called it. No survivors to say any different. Even if anybody had survived, she wasn’t sure they’d argue with the cover story.

 

Last time she’d let her power go she’d levelled a city block.

 

Number One’s sent to the moon and that’s it.

 

The end of The Umbrella Academy. Some would say it was the end of the superhero era, others would say it’s the beginning of more to come.

 

Nobody remembers The Umbrella Academy when Iron Man makes his debut.

 

* * *

 

The first funeral they had ever attended was when they were young, just a little older than two. It’s Vanya’s earliest memory, most of them had been talking and walking by then, but only Number Five and Number Six could speak full sentences and ask the questions that mattered. Everybody else at the funeral is crying, except for them. They hadn’t really known the people who had died, a couple named Howard and Maria Stark, but apparently, their father did.

 

The person who reads out the eulogy is a sobbing mess, and he reeks of alcohol.

 

“Why aren’t you sad?” Number Six looked up at their dad. Their father gave them a look, considering what he exactly he should tell his young impressionable children. All seven of them look up to Reginald expectantly, interested in the answer.

 

“Some sacrifices, my dear boy, are necessary.”

 

Five scrunches up his nose, noting how the seven of them weren’t crying either.

 

“Why aren’t we crying, then?” Everybody else was, and Five knew that the reason wasn’t because of the one that Reginald had told them, as they can’t have possibly known before he had answered them.

 

“Because you are not weak.”

 

Eyes wide, each child takes his words as if God had said them himself. None of them realises that day that it’s okay to be weak.

 

* * *

 

The last time they’d all come together was for Allison’s wedding, even then, Luther was on the moon, Five was missing and Ben was dead.

 

“Oh, he’s here alright.” Klaus had promised them at Allison’s wedding. They can tell he made an effort to get sober for the wedding, but suffering heavily from withdrawal. “Not the best dressed.” His face crinkles, as he looks in what they all assume is the general direction of where Ben stands. “Shut up.” He tells nobody in particular.

 

Patrick looked affronted with Klaus’ behaviour. It seems as though Allison hadn’t explained her background to him enough. Maybe he hadn’t seen her tattoo or maybe she’d rumoured him into forgetting. Vanya can’t blame Allison for wanting to start on a normal foot with somebody when they meet.

 

The only reason they’re all gathered back at the mansion is because of dad’s funeral.

 

“Vanya? You’re actually here.” Allison calls out from the parlour. Vanya swallows nervously. Something about seeing Allison after all these years made her on edge. She’d never really got Allison’s opinion on her autobiography.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be? He was my father too.” Vanya’s trying to not let her emotions get to her, the halls of the mansion haunt her with the torture of her childhood.

 

“I just thought… after what he made us do, that you wouldn’t have bothered.”Allison’s words wash over Vanya, and she completely understands. She was about to not come, but Vanya felt like that would’ve been a betrayal of the hardships they had faced as children. She could totally take this. Although the portrait of Five emotionlessly staring at them does give her the impression that there’s just too many reminders of their past in here.

 

Diego walks pas them both, barely giving them the time of day.

 

“Wow, Vanya’s actually here.” He says over his shoulder while he’s running up the stairs, probably into his bedroom.

 

“Why does everybody keep saying that to me?” Vanya mutters, loud enough for Allison to hear. She smiles apologetically at Vanya.

 

“Your book just… gave us the impression that you’d rather be anywhere than here.” Vanya sighs. So this is what that's about? Really, she wrote that years ago!

 

“Besides, who wouldn’t want to collect their inheritance? Last I checked it was a few billion… divided by seven… oops, I meant four. That gives us a few hundred million each.” Klaus comments from the doorway that leads into the drawing room, a bottle of whisky under his arm. He gives a fake cheer as he pops open the bottle and takes a swig. Allison cringes, she can feel the rawness of the whisky sliding down her throat just by looking at it.

 

Luther clears his throat from the top of the staircase.

 

“Family meeting, guys.”

 

* * *

 

“Where are you going with this, Luther?” The whiskey in Klaus’ hand had been replaced by a cigarette that Luther eyes unhappily. Diego stands up in breathing vicinity of Luther.

 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, Klaus?” Diego walks around Luther slowly, studying his eyes. “He thinks one of us killed dad.”

 

Luther takes too long to answer, and that solidifies it for the rest of them.

 

“You do!” Klaus accuses, and nobody can tell if it’s serious or not.

 

“How could you think that?” Vanya breathes.

“Great job, Luther. Way to lead.” Diego’s voice is laced with sarcasm, but nobody’s laughing. He’s the first to leave.

 

Vanya gets off the lounge to leave the room, she can’t believe this. Had Luther lost all faith in them? She can hear the rest of the Academy filtering out of the room into different directions, most of them going into their room. Luther protests to no avail, trying to explain himself.

 

It’s good ten minutes they spend apart, music had started playing from somewhere, and everybody had calmed down a little, for the most part. Then it hits them, all at once there’s a thick scent of ozone throughout the entire house, which panics a few of them. Ever since they were young kids, they had learned to recognise the signs of gas leaks and what each smell could mean.

 

There’s not enough time to decipher why there’s the strange smell, as half a second later it’s followed by a large bang a great big flashing of blue light throughout the entire house followed by darkness. Everybody races to the source of the light and sound, ready to take it head on if it was hostile.

 

They remember what happened to New York City last time a large blue light had appeared in the sky. They were twenty-three. It had opened into a portal, and out came an alien invasion. That was the public debut of the Avengers, who had been aided by former members of The Umbrella Academy. That’s the time Vanya levelled a city block and crushed a majority of the hostile forces that had attacked. Luther had strength on par with Captain America. Diego had thrown knives with an accuracy better than Hawkeye and the Black Widow could ever hope to achieve.

 

The source is the courtyard, and about ten feet above them is the blue ball of light, flashing dangerously every few seconds. It’s starting to look more and more like a rift with each new flash of light.

 

“What is it?!” Vanya yells, hoping to be louder than the sharp static noise that the rift is creating. The wind swirling around them doesn’t make it any easier for them to hear her.

 

“Don’t get too close!” Allison warns, holding Vanya back while also taking a step back herself.

 

“Yeah, no shit!” Vanya can’t help but feel irritated at Diego’s comment, there’s no need for sarcasm right now.

 

“Look’s like some sort of temporal anomaly,” Luther points out, rather obviously. “Either that or a miniature black hole. One of the two.” He adds, stepping closer to it. _If it’s a miniature black hole than why are you stepping closer to it?_ Vanya thinks to herself.

 

“That’s a pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan-“ Diego starts but is interrupted by Klaus pushing past both him and Luther, carrying a _god damn fire extinguisher_.

 

“Out of the way!” He charges, spraying the contents of the fire extinguisher into the rift, once he sees that it has no effect Klaus dejectedly throws the extinguisher into the rift.

 

“What is that gonna do?!” Allison shrieks and Klaus defeatedly shrugs his head.

 

“I don’t know! Do you have a better idea?!” At least Vanya can give him merit for trying. They’re all thrown back a good foot and a half when the rift fluctuates, the wind around them whirling faster than before. Luther shoves Diego and Klaus behind him.

 

“Everybody get behind me!”

 

“Yeah. Get behind us!” Diego adds, not one to back down when faced with Luther’s authority.

 

“I vote for running, c’mon!” Klaus suggests, although nobody moves, they’re all too interested in seeing what happens, even if it would mean certain death. Once they see the outline of a figure struggling to push himself through the rift, they relax a little. This probably rules out the possibility of it being a miniature black hole.

 

The figure pushes through and lands ungracefully on the ground of the courtyard. The rift disappears and the wind stops howling.

 

“Does anybody else see,” Klaus’ voice wavers, afraid that he could just be seeing another ghost. “Little Number Five, or is that just me?” They all pace forward closer to where their _missing_ brother is standing. Five looks down and takes in his own appearance, studying the all too large baggy clothing that hangs off of his tiny thirteen-year-old frame. He looks exactly like they remember.

 

“Shit.” Is the first thing they hear from Five’s mouth.

 

They’d been desperate to hear from Five for almost over 17 years now, they’d take what they could get.

 

* * *

 

“What’s the date?” Five asks, ignoring the concerned faces of his now physically older siblings. He grabs a loaf of bread from the cabinet. “The exact date.”

 

“The twenty-fourth.” Vanya supplies, not understanding where this was going.

 

“Of what?” He had asked for the exact date, hadn’t he? Why do his siblings insist on making everything so hard for him? He’s on a timer here!

 

“March.” Oh thank the Lord, he had just over a month to set things right, and hopefully, stop the sequence of events that lead to the end of the world. When he’d time travelled into the future, he’d had no clues about what ended the earth, except the date, a false eye and that it was catastrophic.

 

“Good.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

There wasn’t much left to talk about, and Five had walked up into his room, looking for a more fitting set of clothes to change into to. He gets a sour reminder that the only clothes he owned as a thirteen-year-old was his Umbrella Academy uniform when he opens his closet. He sorely puts on the uniform, hating the sight of it, but some part of him would hate even more to wear anything else. He doesn’t mind how hard his early childhood had been, as he preferred it far more in the past than he did in the future.

 

He grimaces at the sight of himself in the mirror, but ties up his shoelaces and straightens up his tie nonetheless. He makes his way downtown, to a place called Griddy Donuts. He can recall coming here as a young preteen with his siblings, sneaking out with the money Klaus had stolen off of their dad.

 

They had eaten far more than their stomachs could handle, and they regretted it soon after when Grace had found them and taken them back home to face their dad’s punishment. Five sits at a stool around the counter, and soon after he had come, there he looked around the cafe. He felt disappoint wash over him, he remembers the place being far more vibrant and warm than it is right now. He rings the bell on the counter twice, and another man walked past and sit in the stool next to him.

 

The waitress leaves the backroom and tends to them, taking out a notepad and pen. The embroidery on her outfit reads Agnes. Her name, probably.

 

“Sorry,” She apologises. “The sink was clogged.” She smiles at them.

 

“So, what’ll it be?” Ah, Five realises, she thinks that they’re here together.

 

“Uh, give me a chocolate eclair.” He requests, and Five looks dubiously at the older man's gut. It no doubt wasn’t good for his health in any way.

 

“Mh-hm, sure.” She writes it down, before gesturing to Five. “Can I get the kid a glass of milk or something?” She asks the man, and Five gives her a blank stare.

 

“The kid wants coffee. Black.” There’s a moment of silence before Agnes shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Cute kid,” She comments, assuming Five’s joking. When he just gives her a wide, toothy smile, she stiffens and awkwardly goes to make the pot of coffee, and fetch the eclair.

 

“I don’t remember this place being such a shit hole,” Five tells the other man, making light conversation. He turns his head and looks at Five, bewildered.

“I used to come here as a kid. Used to sneak out with my brothers and sisters and eat doughnuts till we puked. Simpler times, huh?” He looks at Five, nodding slightly, but still confused on why the hell a young teenager was talking about coming here when he was younger as if he were a fifty-year-old man reminiscing over his youth.

 

“I suppose.” He supplies, unsure of the kid. The waitress brings over the eclair and Five’s coffee, and the man takes a ten dollar note from his pocket and hands it over to the waitress. “I got his.” He claims, probably worried that Five doesn’t have the money himself, out of the corner of his eye he can see the kid giving him a sideways glance. She goes into the back room, probably to get change.

 

“Thanks…” Five says, unsure what made the man want to pay for him. He notices the company logo on the man's shirt. “You must know your way around the city.” The man puts his wallet back into his pocket.

 

“I hope so. I’ve been driving it for twenty years.”

 

“Good, I need an address.”

 

* * *

 

The man leaves the store, and Five’s packing his things up until he sees the swat looking squad in his peripheral vision. No doubt sent from the commission.

 

“Hmm, that was fast.” Five comments, taking one more sip of his coffee before setting it down for good. “I thought I’d have more time before they found me.” He’s unfazed by their appearance.

 

“Okay. So let’s all be professional about this, yeah?” The leader had a large military grade gun pointed to Five’s head. “On your feet and come with us. They wanna talk.” Five’s oddly calm about it all.

 

“I’ve got nothing to say.” He rebuttals.

 

“It doesn’t have to go this way. You think I wanna shoot a kid? Go home with that on my conscience?” Five sighs, it seems like they didn’t know who he was, so they were probably just hired by the Commission to take him to a rendezvous point. Local hire, shouldn't be too much of a hassle. You get what you pay for, after all. The Commission wasn’t dumb enough to send a bunch of properly trained personal until they could assess what he was capable of.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that.” He looks to the leader with the gun pointed at his head and smiles. “You won’t be going home.”

 

Five grabs a knife and just like that, in a fluid motion, he’s on a killing spree. He appears behind the leader and sticks the rather blunt knife into the back of his neck. Gunshots are fired, and he jumps to a table on the other side of the cafe.

 

“Hey, assholes.” He calls out for their attention, for them to turn around and shoot in the direction of his voice only for him to be gone again. They’re busy shooting where he had been until they’re sure they got him. He jumps outside the cafe and knocks on the glass door, catching the attention of the closest one to him. He salutes once the bullets rain in on him, narrowly missing him as he jumps again.

 

Now that they’re on edge, he snaps a mop in half and stabs one man in the side, before disappearing again. He chokes one man from behind with his tie, throws a plate at another and stabs one in the eye with a pencil. The last two are on either side of the cafe, their guns trained in on him. Once they start to fire, Five jumps to a different spot in the cafe, so they end up shooting each other.

 

With his job almost done, he takes back his tie and places it around his neck, observes the rest of the cafe, bends down and twists a man’s neck until he can hear the sickening crunch.

 

There’s only one thing left to be done, he sits down gingerly back at the counter, grabs a knife and makes a short, but deep, incision in his forearm, digging out a small silver pill-shaped object that glows green every few seconds. He walks out, dropping the tracker on the sidewalk.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck am I looking at, Hill?” Director Fury stares at the scene playing out in front of his eyes. His eyes had to be deceiving him. There was no way that this kid alone took out five fully grown professionals, at their own game.

 

“Footage from Griddy’s Donuts, last night. We’ve found one profile match for the boy. Five Hargreeves, born on the first of October, 1989. 13-years-old, sir. A former member of The Umbrella Academy.” Hill states, S.H.I.E.L.D. was having a field day with the reappearance of Number Five.

 

Now that, The Umbrella Academy, was something that Fury was familiar with. From the 90’s to the early 2000’s it had been vaguely a S.H.I.E.L.D. project, initially to be run by Howard Stark, but his obsession with finding Captain America had gotten into the way of that, and instead a billionaire that had been working with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while had stepped up and taken in a personal interest in the program, insisting that most of the work with this Academy be left with him.

 

Apparently, Reginald had managed to train Five well enough that he was far better at combat than most of his Agents, arguably on par with Black Widow, if the footage had told him anything. He was efficient and didn’t hesitate at all. He would be a valuable asset if he wasn’t thirteen that was.

 

“And how pray tell, is he thirteen if he was born in 1989?” As far as Fury was concerned, The Umbrella Academy had been disbanded after a backlash from the combination of Five’s disappearance and Ben’s death.

 

“As you might recall, he went missing in 2002, sir.” She hands him a file on what they knew about Five, reported from Hargreeves himself, before his death. What catches his eye is the bold words circled in highlighter.

 

“Known powers,” Fury starts to read out loud. “Spatial Jumping and… Time Travel.”

 

“Motherfucker.”

 

 


End file.
